The Lagos lockdown was taken more seriously in some places than others; taken more seriously by some people than others; and emotionally affected some people more than others.
Grace did not know how badly she’d been affected. Right off the back of the announcement to self-isolate in Lagos, she had stayed indoors for 10 days.
This was a Thursday now. Power had been out for 48 hours, and her small, stuffy apartment was all but choking her to death. So she came out to the promenade to get some air on her face.
An hour within the clock, he came upon her minding her business. He’s the neighbour she was most friendly with. He’s the neighbour who had tried to sleep with her thrice. And he’s the neighbour she had turned down that many times.
It was not that she did not want him all three times, she just didn’t want to stack up his statistics. It went without saying that he was a bad boy, and could have almost any girl he wanted, and had already had one too many, and she was just going to make another ass in passage on his bed.
But now the weather was really hot in Lagos, worse without electricity, and he offered to power his generator for her. So they went into his apartment which she was very familiar with. She opened the fridge and poured herself some wine.
The good, the bad, and the Lagos – 031
First mistake.
He played You from the Netflix channel on his smart television. As the romantic drama progressed, and the wine began to rekindle her nerves, he gently pulled her in for a cuddle. He always did that with her. It was harmless.
Second mistake.
For what seemed like forever, his hand rested on one of her breasts, unfortified by any bra. She did not realize this until the hand began to move. She wanted to ask him to stop but it felt so damn good, she just closed her eyes, deciding to let it last a brief moment.
Another mistake.
It was in that instant she wondered why she had not thought to maintain a safe distance from him. Everything was wrong.
10 days without physical presence had her thinking warped.
10 days of work wasted also.
Then she held his hand, stopped it from stroking her breast, and asked him in a gentle tone, “What are you doing?”
“Being your boyfriend,” he whispered.
“But you’re not.”
“Why don’t we change that right now, once and for all.” He held her face, held a gaze with her, and slowly met her lips with his’.
Her move was simple: stop and slap him; stop and apologize for leading him on; turn away and avoid the kiss – anything but kiss him back.
She kissed him back.
It surprised her that they didn’t go at it like it was a long time coming. He turned over, came atop her and kissed her intimately. It was so warm and so sweet that she excused her senses to remain lost.
She had never felt so weak in her life. They made love on the chair, and every moment of it was ecstatic. It would surely never happen again but that one time was a welcome walk in the clouds.
Now she was a statistic – another ass in passage – and one more story in the old book of conquests. And amazingly she did not feel a tad remorseful. Instead she reminded herself we get only one life, and we should do it all while we can.
That was it.
One for the lockdown.
